


Buffy Three Meet Blackadder II

by keswindhover



Category: Blackadder, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 16:18:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keswindhover/pseuds/keswindhover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three characters from Buffy get accidentally transported to Elizabethan England, where they meet Lord Edmund Blackadder. Wackiness ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the script of two imaginary episodes of Blackadder II, set just after the events of 'Money', in which Buffy, Giles and Spike in the time between Season 4 and Season 5 of Buffy, are transported through time and space to land in Elizabethan England. (What? Hey! It could happen.)

Scene 1: The kitchen of Lord Edmund Blackadder's house, in Billingsgate, London. Giles and Spike appear in a flash of light, and collapse in a pile. Baldrick, Lord Blackadder's servant, is about to throw a piece of paper into the fire. He witnesses their arrival, and ambles over, the paper in his hand.

Baldrick: (chewing on some mysterious object) Hello.

Giles and Spike dazedly untangle themselves.

Spike: What happened? Where are we then? (draws a deep breath) Hey, I smell old Europe - filth, fog, and rotting corpses. And something very gamey closer at hand (looks at Baldrick).

Baldrick: That's probably me - or it could be the stew.

Giles and Spike gaze at Baldrick, fascinated by his repulsiveness. He takes his hand away from his mouth, revealing a rat's tail dangling from his mouth.

Giles: Is that a rat?

Baldrick: Oh, sorry - did you want some? (He pulls on the tail, and produces a half chewed corpse) It's just a bit spitty.

Giles: That's very kind of you, er...

Baldrick: Baldrick's the name. Pleased to meet you. (he puts out a filthy hand, still holding the piece of paper. Giles shakes it very gingerly, then takes his hand back with the paper stuck to it by some unspeakable substance.)

Giles: (surreptitiously peeling the paper from his hand) Ah, Mr Baldrick - pleased to meet you too. I wonder if perhaps you can tell us where we are?

Baldrick: You're in the kitchen.

Giles: And where is the kitchen?

Baldrick: Here.

Giles: Ye-es. So it is. (Baldrick smiles proudly) But where is here?

Baldrick: In the kit... (He is interrupted by a shout off-stage)

Blackadder: Baldrick! Where are you, you ugly misbegotten offspring of a donkey's testicles?

Baldrick: My Lord is calling. Sorry - I've got to go.

(Baldrick leaves)

Spike: Smelly little bugger. (starts to prowl about the kitchen)

Giles: Nice manners, though. (He reads the piece of paper in his hand, and gasps)

Spike: (looks around) What's that then?

Giles: It's a third reminder for payment of twenty six shillings and eight pence, for stuffed peacocks, a marzipan pig's head, and six gallons of sherry - six gallons? Good Lord.

Spike: (sarcastic) Shocking.

Giles: That is not why I gasped, Spike. (taps the paper) Look at the address, and the date. London! We're in London. In the Elizabethan period! This is tremendously exciting.

Spike: Yeah - exciting. (rolls eyes) So, how are we getting back, then? I want my breakfast.

Giles: Spike - just please, for once, try and use a little imagination. This is history, and we are living in it! (begins touching every object in sight reverently) Anyway, since I have no idea how we got here, clearly I have no notion of how to get back.

Spike: (sulking) Thought you were meant to be the brainy one. Huh. And I've already done two hundred years of history, thanks very much - believe you me, most of it stinks.

(Baldrick reappears at the top of the stairs, with Lord Edmund Blackadder)

Blackadder: You seem happy Baldrick - almost as happy as the time you found the turnip that looked like Mrs Miggins, and made it that little calico dress, and carried it about in your breeches for three months.

Baldrick: Good times... and yes, I am happy my Lord. (dreamily) I've spoken to an angel. (he points) There they are my Lord - angels! They appeared in a flash of light. (they listen for a moment as Spike and Giles continue to bicker) Um, do you have any idea what they're saying, my Lord?

Blackadder: I've no idea, Baldrick - their accents are as ugly and outlandish as their costumes.

Baldrick: Perhaps they're talking in Angel, my Lord.

Blackadder: Ha! If they are angels, then I am Queen of the May!

Baldrick: I didn't know that, my Lord.

Blackadder: I know I'm going to regret this - but what didn't you know, Baldrick?

Baldrick: That you were Queen of the May, my Lord. I thought that was some fairy.

Blackadder: (hits Baldrick round the head) You are a pestilence wracked bonehead, Baldrick.

Baldrick: Thank you, my Lord.

Blackadder: (wipes his hand on his doublet) A greasy headed, pestilence wracked bonehead. I can only pray you haven't given me nits. Remind me to wear gloves the next time I strike you, Baldrick.

Baldrick: Yes, my Lord.

Blackadder: (looks at Giles and Spike, revolted) Appeared in a flash of light indeed! Were there pixies and elves as well, garlanding them with flowers and singing hey nonny, nonny?

Baldrick: No my Lord, (wistfully) but I wish there had been.

(There is a flash of light and Buffy tumbles to the ground near Giles and Spike)

Buffy: Giles! (embraces him) And Spike. (Spike holds out his arms for a hug, which he doesn't get) Eeew! What's that smell?

Blackadder: By God, Baldrick was right! I must make a note. (pulls notebook from his pocket, and writes) June 28th, Baldrick was right. (stares at notebook for a moment) No, clearly that's ridiculous. (scribbles out the note) Hmm, I think I need reinforcements. Come along Baldrick!

(Blackadder and Baldrick slip through the door and lock it)

Giles: (holding Buffy by the shoulder) Buffy! You too? Prepare yourself for a shock - we appear to be in Eliz...

Buffy: Elizabethan London, I know. Skanky, isn't it? (looks around her, and grimaces) Well, I guess they didn't invent Flash yet. It was Ethan - he's a chaos worshipping fool, that guy. This time he set a spell on your Scotch. Anyone who drinks it gets catapulted through time and space to here.

Giles: (outraged, to Spike) That means you've been stealing my Glenmorangie!

Spike: What do you bloody expect? I'm a demon! I'm bad! How do I get that information through your thick skull? (wanders about moodily, lifts the lid on the stew, and winces)

Buffy: Oooh! It's the Big Bad Scotch Stealing Demon. I'm all scared!

Spike: (turns, and gestures with the stew pot lid still in hand) One of these days, Slayer, this chip will be out, and then...

Buffy: And then, I'll kill you, Spike.

Giles: (still fixated on thoughts of his whiskey) And you drank it too, Buffy? Frankly, I expected better of you.

Buffy: (exasperated) I drank it so I could come here, and rescue you! And it's vile, by the way. Eeew!

Giles: (takes his hand from Buffy's shoulder, offended) That is a fine single malt.

Spike: Yeah. It's a very nice drop. You've got no taste, Slayer.

Buffy: Will you two guys focus here! I just travelled through time and space TO RESCUE YOU. (pulls herself up on to the table, then jumps off again, and looks at the seat of her jeans, and starts brushing furiously) Willow and Tara put a trace spell on me, and they're gonna bounce us back, just as soon as all the factors align.

Spike: What factors?

Buffy: (defensively) The relevant factors.

Giles: Could you be a bit more specific, Buffy?

Buffy: The factors that need to be aligned, and stuff. And something about fabric, and ripping it, I think.

Spike: You have no idea what you're talking about, do you?

Buffy: Have so!

Spike: Have not.

Giles: Children, please. I am sure that Willow, or at least Tara, know what they are talking about. Buffy, tell me they know what they're talking about, please?

Buffy: Sure they do. And they have Ethan tied to a pillar, with a truth spell cast on him, in case anything goes wrong.

Giles: (dryly) Very reassuring.

Buffy: Plus, they wrote down what we have to do. (Pulls a crumpled bit of paper out of her back pocket and hands it to Giles)

Giles: (reads it) My God! Ethan has really done it this time! Our presence here is creating a rip in the fabric of space and time.

Buffy: I knew it was something to do with fabric.

Giles: (waves the paper agitatedly) We need to return to the present immediately, before irreparable harm is done.

Spike: Good - I want my breakfast, as I've already said. And when we get back I can watch while Cemetery gal here kicks the stuffing out of Ethan the bloody giggle merchant.

Buffy: Giles, can't we just Slay Spike here - that's got to reduce the ripped fabric thingie by a third, hasn't it?

Giles: Sadly not. We need to take him back.

Buffy: Aww.

Giles: We can leave nothing behind, and change nothing while we're here. Having that simple minded kitchen hand see us was bad enough. Both of you, please listen carefully, this is very important. (Buffy and Spike both look bored) We must maintain the lowest of low profiles. If we do see anyone, act normally, keep quiet, and do not whatever you do, say or do anything to make them suspect we are anything other than ordinary Elizabethan citizens. (waves the piece of paper) Now, all we need to do is to make sure that we are all in one place, with no contemporary people within 10 yards of us, and Willow and Tara can bring us back.

Spike: So why haven't they done it then?

Giles: What?

Spike: Brought us back. Here we are, all in one place. All alone. What's the delay?

Giles: (looks around him) Good point.

(Blackadder and Baldrick appear at the top of the stairs, backed up by several men wielding guns)

Blackadder: Greetings, strangers - welcome to my humble mansion! (strikes a pose at the top of the stairs , and then descends, stopping a safe distance away) Now, would you like to explain just exactly who - or what - you are, and what you are doing in my house?

Giles: Ah! Um, we are humble mummers, travelling from door to door...

Blackadder: Well, you're certainly dressed for the part. What is that thing you're wearing - a coal sack?

Giles: (stiffens) This is tweed!

Blackadder: (to Spike) And your coat - that's just a dead cow painted black, isn't it?

Spike: Pretty much, yeah - and look who's talking - Mr 'Girly' Pantyhose.

Blackadder: (to Baldrick) They're still talking gibberish I see.

Baldrick: That's because they're angels, my Lord!

Blackadder: Remind me to smack you around the head with an heavy implement the next time I pass, Baldrick.

Baldrick: Yes, my Lord.

Blackadder: (slowly and loudly) Who Are You?

Spike: (points at Giles) He's a glorified librarian. (points at Buffy) She's the Slayer, which is a kind of demon, only they don't like you to say so.

Giles: Spike! That's enough.

Blackadder: A demon? How very interesting.

Buffy: I am not a demon - no way, no how! (she punches Spike, who flies violently backwards into the kitchen table and breaks it into splinters)

Giles: Ah, but she is a great believer in physical culture.

Blackadder: (suspiciously) You do seem very strong, particularly for a person of the female persuasion.

Buffy: I eat a lot of spinach.

Blackadder: More gibberish! And I expect full recompense for the table - it was a precious antique. Belonged to my dear old, sadly lamented grandmama. Worth every penny of twenty pounds, that table.

Baldrick: Actually, my Lord, we got it from that tip in Spitalfields - don't you remember? You beat off that old leper, and I carried it home on my head.

Blackadder: Shut up, Baldrick.

Baldrick: Luckily it wasn't that heavy, because of all the woodworm.

Spike: (gets up, and snaps a table leg easily over his knee) You can shove your twenty pounds up your arse, chum.

Blackadder: (strikes Baldrick round the head, curses, and wipes his hand on his doublet again) I sometimes ask myself what I did in a past life to deserve all this. I must have been a snivelling, puling, murderous and treacherous little cretin mustn't I? (turns to Buffy) Well, all demons will of course be burnt at the stake - along with any handy witches (to Spike) Are you a witch by any chance?

Giles: My companions were just being whimsical, Sir. There are no demons among us - ha, ha! The very notion.

Buffy: Just our little joke.

(Spike rolls his eyes, then slouches to a chair and sits down. It breaks and he tumbles to the floor)

Spike: I'm guessing this came as part of the set with the kitchen table. (he gets up again) Actually, we're time travellers. (folds his arms, bored)

Giles: Spike!

Blackadder: (folds his arms, equally bored) Time travellers, eh? From the future, presumably. I can't imagine even the Plantagenets wore anything quite as ugly as you and your companions.

Buffy: Hey - this is Agnes B!

Blackadder: Seriously, now, let's have a little plain talking.

Spike: Black doesn't suit your complexion, mate - makes you look pasty. That plain enough for you? And we just appeared in a flash of light, didn't we? Like you said. We're time travellers, you plonker. (quietly to Blackadder) And hook up with me, and I can show you the way to riches beyond the dreams of avarice.

Blackadder: (quietly back) I seriously doubt there are riches beyond my dreams of avarice. However, you will forgive me if I find it hard to credit the words of a man who appears to have dipped his head in a vat of urine.

Giles: Quite right - he is a big fat liar. We are just harmless, penniless, travelling players.

Blackadder: Actually, you both have a lying-through-your-teeth look about you. It's a look I know well.

(Spike picks up the poker from beside the fire. The arms men immediately point their guns at him, and he waves at them, then ties the poker into a knot)

Spike: Who'd you rather believe? Him or me?

Buffy: (quietly to Giles) Can I at least smack Spike about a bit?

Giles: (quietly back) Probably not without getting someone's head blown off, no. Only as a last resort, Buffy. Although Spike is making things worse by the minute, so that may be soon.

Spike: If you don't listen to me you'll be losing a golden opportunity... (Blackadder looks tempted) ... you daft bugger.

Blackadder: I do not need to bargain with you, Sir. I hold all the aces, for once! (Spike raises his eyes to the ceiling) My God! (paces about) What to do? What to do? (he looks up) I know! I'll chain you all up in extra strong chain, and put you in extra strong cages, and transport you about the country for yokels to gawp at - and I'll charge extra if they want to throw rotten vegetables - yes, it's perfect!

Giles: That is an appalling suggestion.

Blackadder: (not listening) No - I have an even better plan. I will present you to the Queen, for her menagerie. I can be the man who captured the exotic time travelling troupe of mummers and changed history. (Giles winces) I should be set up for life.

(Blackadder goes to order a carriage, leaving Giles, Spike and Buffy guarded by the armsmen. Baldrick continues to hang around gazing worshipfully at Buffy)

Spike: (grins at Giles and Buffy) The Queen of England, eh? We're doing well on that whole 'keep a low profile' thing, aren't we?

Giles: (puts his head in his hands) Oh God, can things get any worse?

Spike: Well sure they can. There are plenty of hours left in the day. (grins again) And I'll enjoy meeting a Queen - saw old Vicky once, but we weren't exactly on speaking terms.

Buffy: (grabs Spike by the throat) Spike, if you do anything more to make things any worse I am going to stake you, then sweep up all the dust very, very carefully, and carry it home in a little bag with me, and put it on my mantelpiece. And I am so not joking.

Giles: I am coming to think that might be the best plan, Buffy, for the sake of the space/time fabric...

Spike: All right, all right! I'll be a good boy. (quietly) While you're listening, anyway.

(Scene 2: In a carriage, on the way to the Royal Palace)

Baldrick (gives Buffy a rat) This is for you, because you're so lovely.

Spike: Looks like you have a new admirer, love.

Buffy: Is there a famine going down? I read about famines, somewhere. (panicked) Do we have to eat rats? (draws herself up) I am not eating rats. There will be no rat eating. Eating of rats will not feature in this Buffy adventure.

Baldrick: Well, I do have a lovely turnip (reaches into his pocket and shows them a wrinkled turnip) I'm very fond of it. (to Buffy) But I'd give it to you (inches closer).

Buffy: Back off, buddy. Before I smack you into the middle of next week.

Baldrick: (blissfully) It spoke to me, by name!

Blackadder: Your name is Baldrick, Baldrick. Not Buddy.

Baldrick: Ah, well that's where you're wrong my Lord. Buggy is my nickname. All the other children in the orphanage called me Buggy, because I had bugs.

Blackadder: She said Buddy, Baldrick, you sad besotted simpleton - not Buggy.

Baldrick: Perhaps she has a cold.

Buffy: (holding her nose) Oof! If only.

Spike: Hey - Buggy and Buffy! You two are fated to be together.

Buffy: Shut up, Spike.

Giles: (peering out of the window) We are in London - Elizabethan London! Isn't it splendid?

Spike: Well, let's see - wars, famine, disease, burnings at the stake and regular beheadings. Yeah, splendid.

Giles: (dreamily) Shakespeare, Jonson, Marlowe, Bacon, Sydney - such poets!

Spike: Bunch of ponces, if you ask me.

Blackadder: Ah, how right you are! All poets are ponces in my opinion. Poncing about, writing trivial poncey little verses, and getting paid good money for them by fools without the taste or wit to know better.

Spike: Had some trouble selling your poems, have you, mate?

Blackadder: Two hundred and sixty three brilliant sonnets - all unpublished.

Giles: Tell me, Spike, how many poems did you sell, or indeed give away, during your rather brief literary career?

Spike: (growls).

Blackadder: Ah - here we are, Richmond.

Giles: Wonderful!

(leaps from the carriage, and slips in the dung smearing the cobbles. Falls to his hands and knees)

Spike: Now that's some authentic Elizabethan horse shit you have in your hands, Watcher - splendid, ain't it?

Buffy: Giles! Are you all right?

Giles: Yes, yes, not a problem. Reality does tend to be a bit messier than one imagines it.

Blackadder: Wipe your hands on Baldrick, it won't make him any dirtier. Now, come along - and meet the Queen of England. I warn you now, she's as thick as pigshit - speak slowly, and don't use any big words.

(Scene 3: A corridor in the Royal Palace: Blackadder, Giles, Buffy, and Spike are standing in a little group, still guarded by the two armsmen. Blackadder approaches down the corridor, accompanied by Baldrick.)

Giles: Do you usually have to wait six hours to see Her Majesty, Sir Edmund? I understood you to say that you were one of her favourites?

Blackadder: These little delays are quite normal, and I have just spoken to the Usher, again. The Queen is simply busy - sorting her button collection according to size. She has a great many buttons, so no doubt it is taking her some time.

Spike: (turns to Giles and kicks moodily at the carpet) This has got to be the most boring bloody 'adventure' you lot have ever dragged me into. It's teatime now - and I still haven't had any breakfast.

Buffy: Will you stop whining about your stomach, Spike? Vampires can go for months without feeding; it says so in the Watcher's Handbook. Says starving them to death is downright time consuming and tedious.

Giles: I am glad to hear that you have been studying, Buffy.

Buffy: Oh, I'm book girl, these days. 'Staking, or Decapitation? You Decide', 'Pyres and Their Many Uses', 'A Dyscourse upon Ye Uses of Nitrous Silver, and Other Slaying Methods' - that's a good one. Very descriptive.

Spike: Oh, har de har, Slayer. I'm trembling in fear, over here.

Blackadder: That all sounds splendidly entertaining, madam, but I've never been much of a one for religious literature. I prefer to beguile my time with wine, women and more wine, and more women. When I can afford them, that is.

Baldrick: (stares soulfully at Buffy) We had four thousand pounds a week ago, Your Divineness. Then my Lord had a cunning plan.

Blackadder: (reaches out to hit Baldrick, then remembers he isn't wearing his gloves) No need to bore our lady guest with these little domestic details, Baldrick.

Baldrick: He decided to double it, by betting that the Bishop of Bath and Wells could eat forty two of Mrs Miggins' meat pies in less than three minutes.

Blackadder: (sounding strained) As I said, no need to bore the lady.

Buffy: Oh, I'm not bored - it sounds real interesting.

Baldrick: And then, Lord Percy told the Bishop that Lord Edmund had backed him.

Blackadder: You may notice that Lord Percy is not present...

Baldrick: And he ate forty one meat pies in one minute and twenty three seconds..

Blackadder: ...That is because Lord Percy is now dead.

Baldrick: Then he nibbled a bit of the crust on the forty second meat pie.

Blackadder: (now caught up in the memory despite himself) One minute and fifty two seconds gone.

Baldrick: Then he made a hole in it and sucked all the gravy out

Blackadder: (clenches his fists) Two minutes and thirteen seconds gone.

Baldrick: Then he pulled all the little bobbles of suet pastry off the top and ate those.

Blackadder: (grinds his teeth) Two minutes and twenty nine seconds gone.

Baldrick: Then he pulled the pie in two and ate all the gristly bits.

Blackadder: (begins to pace) Two minutes and forty three seconds gone.

Baldrick: Which just left a bit of soggy pastry and the one bit of actual meat that was in the pie.

Blackadder: (stares hollowly into space) Seventeen seconds to go - he could have eaten two babies in that time.

Baldrick: Then he ate the pastry...

Blackadder: (contemplates a hanging on the wall) Two minutes and fifty seven seconds gone.

Baldrick: Then he picked up the meat... and he said he felt too full and he put it down again.

Blackadder: Three minutes gone. Ruined, ruined! (he bangs his head on the wall, repeatedly)

Spike: He sounds like a bloke with real talent. I wonder if I could do something like that? Hmm...

Giles: From what I remember of the Bishop and his order, you'd fit right in there, Spike.

Baldrick: ...So now we're poor again. Although, I do still have my lovely turnip (reaches into his pocket and shows them the wrinkled turnip again)

Giles: Ah - I'm sure that must be a great consolation to you, Mr Baldrick.

Baldrick: (strokes turnip) It is. I always say, Sir, no matter how bad things may be, you're never really alone with a turnip.

(Scene 3: The throne room. Lord Blackadder and Baldrick enter, followed by Giles, Spike and Buffy, and the two armsmen. The Queen is seated on her throne, with her Nurse beside her on one side, and her Chancellor Lord Melchett on the other.)

Blackadder: (bows deeply) Greetings, Your Royal Highness. May I just say how absolutely ravishing you are looking today?

Queenie: Shut up Edmund, and show me the funny monkeys you found.

Blackadder: Certainly, Majesty. May I present Lord Giles of Bath, and his company.

Queenie: (waves merrily) Hello there! Edmund tells me you're time travelling monkeys. How amusing!

Blackadder: Ahem, mummers, Your Majesty, rather than monkeys.

Queenie: Who's Queen?

Blackadder: Monkeys it is. Sir Giles, may I present you to Her Royal Highness, her Most Gracious Majesty, the Queen of England?

Giles: (approaches the throne, and bows) Your Majesty, I am honoured, deeply honoured to make your acquaintance. Your fame has echoed down the ages, but all reports of your beauty and wit have failed to do you justice.

Queenie: Really? Well that's not good, is it? I shall have to execute someone. Melchie, who is my Press Officer?

Blackadder: I believe that would be Lord Melchett, your Majesty.

Melchett: (hastily) No, no - it's the Home Secretary.

Blackadder: Ah - my mistake. (Lord Melchett throws him a dirty look)

Queenie: Get me a death warrant.

Melchett: Conveniently, the Home Secretary is already on the condemned list, Your Majesty.

Queenie: Really? Golly, I am clever, aren't I?

Melchett: Indeed, madam. (bows deeply) Your genius is legendary.

Blackadder: (to Giles) And this is Lord Melchett. (adds quietly) Champion bottom kisser of all England.

Melchett: (casts a sly glance at the Queen) So, Lord Blackadder, not still feeling sore about that little joke the Bishop of Bath and Wells played upon you, I hope?

Blackadder: Not at all, Lord Melchett - it was a jolly little jape by the Bishop. I myself was tickled nearly as much as a man with a ferret down his breeches. Four thousand pounds was a trifle to pay for such hilarity and larks.

Queenie: (impressed) Oh, you are splendid, Edmund. I would be jolly sick if I lost four thousand pounds, I can tell you. (laughs) And I have hundreds of thousands of pounds, just lying around!

Nursie: Indeed, you have, you naughty little dumpling. I keep telling you to stuff it in your piggy bank like a wise little girl, but no.

Queenie: The piggy won't keep still, Nursie you know that. So, I just have to wade through it every night on my way to bed. Frightfully boring! (Blackadder and Melchett both laugh sycophantically)

Blackadder: You have all my sympathy madam - money is so tedious. Happily, I will be able to take some of it off your hands, in exchange for these exciting additions to your menagerie.

Queenie: Let me have a look at you all. (Blackadder prods Buffy and Spike forward to join Giles)

Nursie: Gosh, they seem just like real people, don't they my lambkin? Apart from the smell.

Blackadder: Ah - the smell is actually my servant Baldrick, your Majesty. (indicates Baldrick) He witnessed the arrival of the first two Time Travellers. I myself witnessed the arrival of the third (he indicates Buffy. There is a dangerous silence.)

Queenie: Edmund! Who told you you could bring a girl who might possibly be prettier than me into the room?

Melchett: Oh, madam. Your beauty is legendary. No shiny little drab could possibly exceed your own, royal incandescence.

Queenie: Shut up Melchie.

Melchett: Certainly madam.

Buffy: Who are you calling drab? This is Agnes B, people! Clearly, you guys know noth..(Blackadder clamps a hand over her mouth)

Blackadder: Actually, she - I mean he - is a boy, your Majesty. A very pretty boy!

Queenie: Really?

Nursie: Ooh, I like a pretty boy! I shall sit him on my lap, and snuggle him on my pillowy thighs, and press him against my squishy bosom, and fed him comfits with my plump white fingers...

Buffy: (through Blackadder's hand) Mmph... Ugh!

Spike: Bob's more interested in other boys, than the sweet curves of womankind, aren't you Bob?

Melchett: (brightens) Really? Erm, that is, disgraceful!

Nursie: Liquorice comfits, sugared fennel seeds, candied peel.

Spike: (mildly interested for the first time) Candy? I am a bit hungry...

Buffy: (stamps on Blackadder's foot and moves away) I am not a boy!

Blackadder: (tries to chuckle despite the pain) Bob here prefers to be called a man, Your Majesty, although he does not yet shave. Boys are so sensitive. (hisses to Buffy) Silence, if you value your life!

Queenie: And who is the yellow headed fellow with such pretty lips?

Giles: (indicates Spike, who has moved to Nursie's side and is eating liquorice) This is Sir Alexander of Harris, Your most resplendent and superb Majesty.

Spike: (sprays liquorice everywhere) What? (whispers) You are going to regret that, you bastard. (Giles grins at him)

Queenie: Ooh! You talk very prettily, my Lord Giles. (beckons to Spike) But lovely Lord Alexander has such sculptured cheekbones! He can be my new favourite. Lord Melchett, you're far too plain! Step down. Come here, pretty Lord Alexander. (Melchett moves reluctantly, and Spike takes his place, smirking)

Nursie: Golly my pet - the bad man isn't wearing a codpiece! That's disgusting, you should avert your eyes! (Nursie and the Queenie both peer intently. Spike strikes a pose).

Buffy: (crosses her eyes and makes gagging noises)

Blackadder: Ahem! Perhaps we should return to the matter in hand, which is to say your acquisition of these exotic Time Travelling Mummers, um Monkeys.

Queenie: (peering intently at Spike) Shut up, Edmund.

Blackadder: Certainly, your Majesty.

Queenie: Now, Lord Alexander, if you would tilt your head, just so - ah, that's pretty - now tell me - what's it like in the future? Has anyone invented a way to make geese shit gold yet, or pigeons vomit rubies?

Spike: (popping another piece of liquorice in his mouth) No, your Majesty - shit and vomit are still very much the same as they ever were. (looks at Buffy and Giles) Part of the human condition.

Blackadder: (raises an eyebrow) So it's still the same old same old, basically?

Spike: Pretty much - humans are born, they live, they die. Some earlier than others, of course. (looks hard at Buffy)

Blackadder: Well, gosh that's interesting isn't it? Now. Perhaps we can return to the little matter of a purchase price...

Giles: (defensively) Man has walked upon the moon.

Blackadder: Man has walked upon the moon, eh? And that was a highlight? I mean, a man walked on the moon and you're all thrilled to bits about it?

Giles: It was a very significant achievement.

Melchett: I see - and what did he find there, Sir Giles? I mean, is it covered in precious jewels? Diamonds, rubies?

Queenie: Ooh! That would be super. They'd all be mine of course.

Giles: Ah, no. It's basically rock, I believe, and dust.

Blackadder: Rock and dust, eh? Fascinating, quite fascinating. You must tell us more about it sometime, perhaps when I'm unconscious.

Giles: (begins to pace) Yes, well, had we but world enough and time, I would love to sit and talk of these and many other fascinating and important developments, your Majesty; but I fear I must tell you that there is a rip in the fabric of time which is growing larger even as we speak. Urgent action is needed...

Queenie: Shut up, Sir Giles, I want to hear more about gold, and diamonds and rubies.

Giles: Pardon me for persisting, Your Majesty, but the matter is most urg...

Queenie: Melchie!

Melchett: At your service, Majesty.

Queenie Write me an order of execution for Sir Giles.

 _Cor! Dramatic cliffhanger, eh? Tune in again to find out if 'Sir' Giles is for the chop, if Buffy can resist punching Spike again, if Blackadder can restore his fortune, and if cruel fate will separate Baldrick from his turnip. Oh - and whether our time travelling heroes can get safely home, and repair the rip in the fabric of time and space, of course._


	2. Relativity

Scene 1: Antechamber in the Royal Palace at Richmond. Buffy, Spike, Blackadder and Baldrick have withdrawn from the Royal Chamber, Giles has been led away in chains.

Blackadder: I wonder if Sir Giles has set a new record for the extreme brevity of his career at Court? There was Lord Broomhall, who returned from his travels in the Indies, and presented her Majesty with a baboon instead of a chest of pearls, but Lord Giles may have pipped him. I must go and consult the Guardroom league tables - I have five shillings, threepence ha'penny riding on Lord B losing his record inside six months. (he strides away, a spring in his step)

Buffy: Poor, poor Giles. We have to save him, at once.

Baldrick: (sidling up to Buffy) You don't need to worry about him being topped just yet, your lovely Divineness. The executioners won't work weekends, or bank holidays, or feast days, or days with an 'e' in them - they're unionised, you see.

Spike: Pity. Personally, I think having his head separated from his shoulders would improve Giles a lot. (broodingly) Lord Alexander of Harris, indeed! On second thoughts, beheading's too good for the sod.

Buffy: We've gotta get Giles out of the Tower now, or ourselves in.

Spike: (looking around the corridor, bored) Oh, there's no hurry, is there? I expect your dear old Alfred is thrilled at the chance to see another bit of authentic old London.

Buffy: Willow and Tara need us all together to bring us home, remember? If this rip doesn't get fixed, the best thing that can happen is that we're stuck here for good. (dramatic pause) The worst thing is the end of the world!

Spike: Finally took the time to read that bit of paper Willow sent for Giles, did you? I wouldn't worry too much about it Slayer, witches always say stuff like that, makes 'em feel important - and they usually say it in Latin to make it sound scarier. (for a moment he looks bitter) Bunch of bloody posers.

Buffy: You don't want us to get Giles out, do you?

Spike: Frankly, no.

Buffy: Want to stay in Elizabethan London forever, Spike? (raps his skull with her fist) With that chip in your head?

Spike: (disgusted) All right, all right. We'll bust him out. (quietly) I'll just have to make sure he dies in agonising pain another day.

Buffy: We need to stick together.

Spike: (to himself) Oh great, just great. My day really isn't complete without a few hours spent hanging with Cemetery girl here.

(Blackadder returns, jingling his money pouch cheerfully)

Blackadder: Hah! Five shillings, threepence ha'penny! The day has started to improve. I fancy a decent rump steak, and a bumper of sherry - I've gone off pies for now.

Baldrick: (wistfully) Rump steak sounds very nice, my Lord...

Blackadder: I wasn't planning to buy you any, Baldrick.

Baldrick: (dreamily) Rump steak and turnips. (he takes his turnip from his pocket and strokes it). You can't beat a good turnip.

Blackadder: Although you can beat a cretin with a turnip.

(Blackadder grabs the turnip and strikes Baldrick with it. Buffy catches his arm, twists it, and returns the turnip to Baldrick)

Buffy: Cut it out, Torquemada. (she moves away)

Blackadder: Hmm, I bet you have quite a grip with your thighs, too, and other muscles.

Buffy: (returns) Slayers also have very good hearing. And Lord Blackadder? Believe me, I have a very strong grip everywhere. (reaches out a hand and squeezes his codpiece)

Spike: Yeah, that's what Angel said. (Buffy's grip on Blackadder's codpiece tightens)

Blackadder: (falsetto) Madam...

(Buffy releases Blackadder, and raises her fist to punch Spike, then takes a deep breath and stalks away)

Blackadder: (calls after her) And I wish you every success in your future career as a circus freak. (he moves to the door) Now, it pains me to do this, but I assure you it is entirely for your own safety. Trust me. (exits the room, slams the door, and locks it)

Baldrick: Hey! He's I think he's locked us in. That was a bit careless. (Spike rolls his eyes)

Buffy: Not to worry, Baldrick, I can fix the door.

Baldrick: (impressed) Can you walk through doors, your exquisite Divineness?

Buffy: Yes - but not exactly in the sense you mean. On this occasion, I think I'll try something a bit subtler. (She walks up to the door and rips the locks off it with a loud scream of tortured metal.

Baldrick: Oooh!

Spike: Oh, that was subtle all right.

Buffy: Thanks.

Spike: About as subtle as a pickaxe in the head.

(Buffy leaves, with Baldrick scampering after her. Spike pauses a moment, and tosses Blackadder's money pouch in the air, and empties the coins into his hand)

Spike: Right, finally I can get some breakfast. And the Slayer need be none the wiser.

(As he jingles the coins lightly, Buffy and Baldrick walk back through the door)

Spike: Damn.

Buffy: (advancing rapidly) Is that Sir Edmund's money, Spike?

Spike: No.

Buffy (reprovingly) Well, I am shocked - I see you are now a Scotch and small change stealing demon. (then her mood changes) Although, that money's gonna come in useful. I have a plan.

(she snatches the coins from Spike's palm, and there is an undignified scuffle as he tries to get them back)

Buffy: Spike! Let go of my fingers or I'm going to punch you again - with a bunch of heavy coins in my hand. (Spike lets go reluctantly)

Baldrick: My Lord is going to be ever so upset when he realises that money's gone.

Buffy: Gee that's true, Baldrick - which is why you're not going to tell him - for his own good, you see. Save him being upset sooner than he needs to be. Okay?

Baldrick: (besotted) You're so lovely, and sweet, your Divineness.

Spike: (snorts derisively) Still can't keep a boyfriend though, eh Slayer? (Gestures to Baldrick) Although it seems you can try again with Turnip Boy here.

Buffy: (balls her first to punch him, then takes a deep breath and smiles at Baldrick instead) Thank you for saying so, Baldrick. Now let me tell you about my plan. It's a lot more cunning than your Lord's idea with the bet, but I need a native guide - and you're it.

(Scene 2: Buffy, Spike and Baldrick are buying clothes in a London street market)

Buffy: No way am I wearing that! (she holds up a grubby pair of green breeches)

Baldrick: It's the best you're going get for eighteenpence, you Divine Loveliness.

Buffy: It's snot green.

Spike: Actually it's more of slime green, (grins) makes all the difference.

Baldrick: That's right Your Loveliness, snot green (holds up a brown pair of breeches) or shit brown. Very practical colours for young men - it's cunning when you think about it.

Buffy: Ethan is going to pay for this. In blood. (she passes over money)

Spike: You're going to make a cute little orphan Oliver, Slayer.

Buffy: Shut up, Spike. (she looks around) Now, we need to find you a dress.

Spike: Hey! what dress? What are you going on about? (he hurries to catch up with her, as she moves over to a stall draped in women's clothes. Baldrick wanders after them, a vacant expression on his face. As he turns away, a pickpocket's hand sneaks into his breeches, and removes his turnip)

(Scene 3: A cell in the Tower of London. Giles is sitting manacled to a wall. Mr Ploppy the Warder enters)

Mr Ploppy: Hallo, hallo Sir Giles. Bearing up are we? Your sausages are in the pan, sir. And Mrs Ploppy tells me she actually found a pig's trotter to put in them today. Very nice. And you have some visitors, sir - the lovely Mrs Sir Giles, and your devoted son Bob.

Giles: What? I have no.. I mean, thank God! My dear devoted family!

(Buffy dressed as Bob, and Spike, dressed as Lady Giles, enter, followed by Baldrick. Five shillings has not stretched very far, and their clothes are ill fitting and shabby. Spike is wearing his coat as a makeshift cloak)

Buffy: Papa! (rushes to Giles' side) Are you okay, Giles?

Spike: Hello, Giles old boy, how's it going? Have they tortured you yet? Any authentic Elizabethan floggings, iron boots, or turns on the wheel? That would have been exciting for you, eh?

Mr Ploppy: (indignant) No torturing on weekends, bank holidays, feast days, or days with an 'e' in them - same as executions. We present a united front to all management demands.

Spike: Pity again. Still, I suppose I'll have to settle for authentic Elizabethan chilblains, fleas, rat bites and nits. And it does my heart good to see you, mate. To see you cold, wet, starved and manacled to a wall, that is.

Giles: (mock sweetly) And what a very pretty dress you are wearing today, dear. It suits you splendidly. You should wear it more often.

Mr Ploppy: Ah! It does my heart good to hear a happy married couple, and the good natured chaffing between them. Reminds me of my dear old mum and dad. Many the merry laugh we had, as she chased him round the kitchen table with a skewer in her hand.

Giles: (stirring painfully in his chains) Is there any chance of sausages all round, Mr Ploppy?

Buffy: (she turns to Baldrick, who is staring listlessly at the wall) Would you like a sausage or two, Baldrick?

Baldrick: I suppose so. (he sighs, and sinks on to a nearby bench)

Giles: Our fragrant friend seems a little depressed.

Buffy: Someone stole his turnip, in the market when we were buying our disguises. He's all wigged about it.

Giles: Good Lord, it's a cut throat world here in Elizabethan England, isn't it? Not even a man's turnip is safe.

Buffy: I bought him a new one, but it's not the same apparently. (she breaks off and smiles at Mr Ploppy) Anyway, sausages sounds good. Lady Giles here will be happy to pay, she has some pennies left.

Spike: No I don't.

Buffy: Yes you do - you hid them in your coat pocket when you thought we weren't looking.

Baldrick: (looks up briefly from the bench) Your left hand inside coat pocket, Lord Alexander, sir. Eightpence ha'penny.

Giles: Excellent! So, sausages all round it is.

Mr Ploppy: Certainly, sir! There's always enough sausages to go round. (Everyone looks at Spike. Mr Ploppy holds out a hand, and Spike places a coin in it with bad grace. Mr Ploppy continues to hold out his hand until Spike has grudgingly paid out five pennies)

Mr Ploppy:Happy to oblige! (he leaves)

Spike: Can we for God's sake get on with this? Break the chains, already, Slayer. And we can be on our way, and wait for the Wonder Wiccas somewhere quiet.

Baldrick: (suddenly alarmed) Aren't we going to wait for the sausages?

Buffy: We need to escape while Mr Ploppy is away, Baldrick. (breaks the first of Giles' chains)

Baldrick: Perhaps I could stay behind (brightens a little) Then I'd have lots of sausages.

Giles: (rubbing his wrist) You would also have the full attention of Her Majesty, and Her Majesty's torturer, Baldrick.

Baldrick: Well, I could cross that bridge when I came to it.

(Buffy breaks the second chain, and Giles gets to his feet with a groan)

Giles: Oh my back! And my arms!

Spike: Genuine authentic Elizabethan pain, that is. You're living in history, remember? You should be a bit more appreciative, seems to me.

Giles: That joke is wearing very thin, Spike. (looks at Spike's dress) And has anyone ever told you how pretty you are when you just make a bit of an effort with yourself?

Spike: (scowls) No.

Giles: Thought not. Right, we really need to go, very quietly.

(Giles, Spike and Buffy prepare to sneak away, but as they approach the door, Blackadder enters, followed by Queenie, Nursie, Lord Melchett, a number of burly guards - and Mr Ploppy, with a frying pan full of sausages)

Spike: Oh God. It's the Queen of Misrule and her halfwit minions, again.

Mr Ploppy: Sausages for four, My Lord!

Queenie: Oh, I say - sausages. (takes one)

Melchett: Ah, sausages! Splendid. (takes one)

Nursie: Ooh, I like a nice big sausage. (takes one)

Blackadder: I bet you do, you libidinous old hag. (takes two)

(Baldrick skulks up and takes the remaining three. Mr Ploppy leaves, and Blackadder moves to Baldrick's side)

Blackadder: (eating a sausage) Baldrick - would you like to explain to me why you are here with these two cross dressing refugees from a Shakespeare comedy? (indicates Spike and Buffy)

Baldrick: No, my Lord.

Blackadder: I thought not. Baldrick - do you notice anything different about me? (waves his right hand, now clad in a glove, significantly in front of Baldrick)

Baldrick: Have you done something with your hair, my Lord?

Blackadder: No, Baldrick - good guess, but no. (waves his right hand significantly again) You will remember, Baldrick, that earlier today I was unable to strike you as often as I wished because I had mislaid my gloves, and I thought I might catch something if I struck you bare handed.

Baldrick: Yes, my Lord

Blackadder: So, what has changed Baldrick?

Baldrick: New tights, my Lord?

Blackadder: (waves both gloved hands slowly in front of Baldrick's face, his left hand holding the uneaten sausage)

Baldrick: You've become a smutty mime, my Lord?

Blackadder: No, Baldrick. Let me put both of us out of our misery here. (strikes Baldrick around the head with his right hand, then holds both hands in front of Baldrick again)

Baldrick: (dazed) Ooh! You've got four hands my Lord! I never noticed that before.

Blackadder: There's only two of them, Baldrick. My point is that I am now wearing gloves. Gloves, Baldrick, gloves!

(Blackadder moves away to join Giles, Buffy and Spike, while eating his second sausage)

Baldrick: (to himself) Seems a lot of fuss to make about a pair of gloves, I must say.

(sits down and begins to eat his sausages)

Blackadder: I am happy to announce that I have saved you, Sir Giles.

Giles: (rather feebly) Oh, Good. Thanks.

Blackadder: No need to fall on my neck babbling your thanks, and promising me half your fortune, although frankly that would be polite.

(Queenie, Nursie and Melchett approach Giles and Blackadder)

Queenie: Cooee! Lord Giles, I've decided to pardon you!

Giles: (trying to sound pleased) Oh - um, that's very splendid and um, noble hearted of you, your Majesty.

Queenie: Yes, I am super, aren't I? And besides I just bought you from Sir Edmund, so chopping your head off would be silly, and uneconomical.

Melchett: Her Majesty is as financially astute as she is tender, womanly and merciful.

Nursie: And here is little Bob, again! Let me crush you to my bosom, my little cherub, and dandle you upon my knee! (grabs Buffy and crushes her to her bosom)

Melchett: Such a tender and touching sight!

Queenie: (jealously) Just whose Nursie are you, Nursie?

Nursie: (still holding Buffy head against her bosom) Why yours, my pet, but it's a long time since you were a sweet, blossoming, nubile little thing, like Bob here.

Queenie: Drop that boy immediately.

Buffy: Yes, please, do drop me! (Nursie reluctantly releases her, and Buffy frantically rubs powder from her face)

Buffy: (to herself) Oh God, I need so many showers!

(Suddenly the Queen catches full sight of Spike's dress, under his cloak/coat)

Queenie: (falls back a step, her hand to her breast) Lord Alexander! In women's garb? (sobs a little) I have been deceived. I believed you to be a manly man. (apparently to herself) Slight, and lean, it is true - but still muscular, and well endowed (glances involuntarily at Spike's missing codpiece) and just a little dangerous.

Spike: (indignantly) I am a manly man! Very manly. And I'm very dangerous! (stands with his hands on his hips, the effect a little spoilt by his dress, which is covered in little sprigs of flowers)

Melchett: You are a pervert, Sir. Deliciously saucy and sexy though you appear in that shockingly revealing garment.

Spike: Look, I can explain. This is all Giles' fault. He is trying to escape, back to his own time, and Buffy here is not a pretty boy - she is a wom.. (Buffy punches Spike, and he bounces off the cell wall, and passes out.)

Queenie: Ooh! A fight! And the evil deceiver Lord Alexander is vanquished. (The Queen sidles up to Buffy)

Queenie:Gosh you are a strong little man, aren't you, Bob? You make me feel a little bit squidgy (lowers her voice) down there. I think I might marry you.

Buffy: (looks nauseous) I'm flattered, Your Majesty, but...

Melchett: (very put out) Ahem, unfortunately, as you yourself have so rightly decreed, Bob is of course a monkey, Your Majesty.

Queenie: Have I? Oh bother, yes I suppose I have.

Giles: This is ridiculous! Obviously Buffy is not a monkey...

Buffy: Yes I am! (an argument between Giles and Buffy ensues)

Queenie: Ooh, this is all very exciting.

Melchett: Indeed, ma'am. You now have the only talking monkeys in Europe.

Spike: (comes around dazedly and staggers to his feet) Wha? Where am I?

Blackadder: Still in the Tower, Lord Alexander. Enjoying Her Majesty's hospitality. (looks Spike up and down) I presume there is a reason that you're dressed like a drunken gin whore?

Spike: Slayer's stupid bloody idea. (holds his jaw) Ow.

Blackadder: Very handy with her fists, you little lady friend, isn't she?

Spike: You don't know the half of it.

Blackadder: Meanwhile, your half witted friend Sir Giles appears to be digging himself deeper into a hole at every second.

Spike: Good. And they're not my friends, not at all.

Blackadder: Really? How interesting... perhaps we should talk.

Spike: Perhaps we should - how would you like to join the twentieth century? You should feel right at home there.

Blackadder: And what would you like me to do, in return, Lord Alexander?

Spike: I am not Lord Al... (controls himself) Never mind, it's not important. (turns to Blackadder) Just call me Spike, okay? Since we're such pals now.

Blackadder: Spike? How very monosyllabic and Anglo Saxon of you. Very appropriate. Spike, it is - and you can call me Lord Blackadder.

Spike: Anything you like. Now, here's the deal - three people came and three people can leave. Someone has to stay behind - but it doesn't have to be you...

(Back at the other side of the cell, Giles and Buffy's argument is continuing)

Melchett: The Queen's monkeys will be silent!

Giles: For the last time, we are not monkeys!

Melchett: The Queen has decreed that you are.

Giles: (severely provoked) Well clearly, the Queen is talking out of her arse. (There is a collective ooh! of shock from Nursie, Melchett, and Queenie. Blackadder and Spike look up)

Giles: (collecting himself a little) If you will pardon the expression.

Nursie: He said 'arse'! What a naughty boy Lord Giles is. Nursie says naughty Lord Giles needs a spanked bottom.

Queenie: I think you're jolly well right, Nursie.

Melchett: Ahem, Lord Giles - it is not for we humble subjects to suggest that the Queen is or is not talking out of her notably delectable and royally distinguished rear end.

Blackadder: (who has approached, with Spike) Quite so. We simply accept her decrees and trust in her royal splendidness.

Queenie: Oh Edmund, you are sweet!

Blackadder: (bows) It was nothing, Your Majesty.

Queenie: Was it? Oh, all right I'll ignore it then. Now back to the spanking.

Blackadder: (quietly to himself) Damn. Thick as pigshit - I keep forgetting that.

Buffy: No one is spanking Giles - lets get that straight right now.

Queenie: (sending Buffy an unpleasant look) And I don't like Bob's attitude, or Lord Alexander's dress...

Nursie: So true - little bunches of flowers like that do nothing for him.

Queenie: (laughs merrily) Oh Nursie! You are so funny! You made a splendid joke. (Nursie, Queenie, Blackadder and Melchett all laugh)

Queenie: (changes tone abruptly) But you interrupted me - if you do that again, I shall chop your head off! (There is an uncomfortable silence) Right - so Lord Giles and Bob have been frightfully rude, and Lord Alexander is a big girl's blouse, so I've decided to send them all to the Menagerie. (She waves at them) I might let you out again sometime - if I remember you, that is!

(she sweeps out, followed by Nursie and Melchett, leaving her guards looming)

Spike: That went well, didn't it? Did a fine job there, Watcher. Charmed her Majesty a treat.

Giles: What a frightful woman.

Buffy: (indignant) We are human beings, she can't just call us monkeys and lock us up in a zoo!

Spike: Yes she can. (quietly to Buffy) Luckily we can break out again.

Blackadder: Yes, well, that's bureaucracy for you. I expect Melchie has written it up on a nice pretty decree by now. (places his hand on his breast) The Queen has spoken, and we are her loyal subjects.

Buffy: I am totally not her loyal subject. She's not my Queen - I'm from California.

Blackadder: California, eh? Oh well of course that makes all the difference.

Buffy: You bet it does.

Blackadder: (sighs) I was being sarcastic, madam. It makes no difference at all that you hail from Scotland, you are still officially a monkey.

Buffy: Scotland? California is in the United States of America. You could fit Scotland in one toe of California.

Blackadder: Very possibly, madam, but I can't imagine why you'd want to.

Baldrick: America? (reverently) Have you met brave, noble Sir Walter Raleigh? He's a fearless explorer, and he invented potatoes and tobacco.

Blackadder: He didn't invent them, Baldrick. He didn't even discover them - he just stole them from the Spanish. God knows why.

Baldrick: Brave, noble Sir Walter! (pulls a tatty piece of paper from his breeches pocket and proudly displays a drawing of Sir Walter holding out a potato. The potato looms in the foreground of the picture, partly obscuring Sir Walter's face.)

Blackadder: As always Baldrick you are way behind the wave crest of public opinion.You will find the public has put away its antlered hats, and has now taken to calling Sir Walter Mr "Potato Head" Raleigh. (he taps the picture) I hear he is now desperately trying to flog those things as edible - hah! And as for tobacco, he's really reaching there, the poor simpleton - he tells us you can set fire to it for fun.

Buffy: Potatoes are edible! I've eaten tons of 'em. (pats her hips self consciously) That's over many years, obviously.

Blackadder: (annoyed) Oh God! That means they're going to catch on, doesn't it? It's always the ghastliest things that do. Well, I can see they've formed a lovely nutritious diet for you, madam. They seem to have stunted you a bit, but what's a little stunted growth between friends, eh? All hail Our Lady of the Potato (bows ironically at Buffy). Anyway, frankly, the Menagerie is probably the best place for you tonight - nice clean straw, all the fruit you can eat, and no likelihood of being beheaded. You'll be better off than most of the population of London, actually.

Spike: Plus I need to stay out of the sun. (he looks around him at the Tower) And no bloody sun ever gets in this place.

Giles: You have a point...

Buffy: It seems like a good idea, Giles. We'll all be together, easy to find.

Giles: (thinks about this) Hmmm...

Blackadder: I suggest you go along quietly to the Menagerie, and I will try to change her Majesty's mind, such as it is, over the next few days.

Buffy: (quietly to Giles) By which time we will be long gone...

Giles: Yes, yes - the Menagerie sounds like a good plan. (holds out his arms to the guard) Take us away!

(Giles, Buffy, and Spike are lead away)

Blackadder: (to himself) Now, I just need a key, a pistol with a round of shot in it for Bob the Slayer - and possibly a change of underpants, if I am to go time travelling. (turns to Baldrick, who is still sitting silently in the corner, brooding over his turnip) Come along, Baldrick, I have a cunning plan.

Scene 4: The Tower of London Menagerie. Giles, Spike and Buffy are sitting in a small compound, next door to a very depressed rhinoceros. There is a sign over their heads, reading 'Tyme Travellers' A huge gawking mob is pointing at them, and throwing vegetables)

Spike: You're just a six stone weakling, aren't you, Slayer?

Buffy: Shut up Spike - you couldn't break them either. (she gestures to the heavy iron doors behind them)

Spike: Yeah - but you're the super Chosen One. I'm just a humble vampire.

Buffy: Humble my ass.

Spike: I'd love to. Believe me.

Giles: (sighs) I suppose we might have predicted that the doors in the Tower of London Menagerie would rather hard to break - since they're designed to keep elephants and rhinoceri in.

Spike: You didn't predict it though, did you? You led us in here, and we followed like a pair of bloody stupid sheep. (he ducks as a potato hurtles by)

Giles: (begins to pace) You were the one who was so eager for us to come here, Spike. Remember?

Buffy: (stares at the bars at the front of the compound, against which the crowd is pressed) Maybe I could bend the bars, and then we could fight our way out.

Giles: I have told you, several times, that we can't damage a hair on anyone's head without endangering the space time fabric.

Spike: (scowling at the mob) Bugger the space time fabric.

Giles: Now, now, we just need to look on the bright side - we haven't been executed, and we haven't caught the plague. (a rotten cabbage hits him on the side of the head. There is a roar from the crowd. Giles shakes his fist.) Savages!

Buffy: Also looking on the bright side - we're all together, so Willow and Tara can rescue us, just as soon as all the factors are aligned.

Giles: Just so - we just need to be all in one place, with no contemporaries within 10 yards of us.

Spike: (to himself) Three people anyway - Lord Slackbladder can earn himself a one way trip to Sunnyhell, and rid me of the Slayer all in one fell swoop. Where the bloody hell is he?

(They are struck by a rain of potatoes)

Giles: Hmm, there seems to be some consumer resistance to Sir Walter's spuds developing, doesn't there?

Buffy: I guess they'll realise you have to boil them, eventually.

Giles: It's a bit like waiting for Godot, isn't it? If he comes we'll be saved - only it's Willow, not Godot.

Buffy: And if Godot doesn't come?

(another cabbage splats into the wall behind them)

Giles: Well, in the play Vladimir and Estragon are planning to hang themselves.

...........

The entrance to the Tower of London Menagerie. Blackadder and Baldrick enter at a run.

Blackadder: Come along, Baldrick. We need to get them out as soon as possible.

Baldrick: Yes, my Lord.

Blackadder: Right - you remember the plan? You wait until the Great Clock strikes Five, then you throw them the key.

Baldrick: Yes, my Lord.

Blackadder: (to himself) Then they step out in to the corridor, which is where I will be concealed. And we all take a trip to the future. I shall be free of Her Majesty the Moron, and that consummate brown noser Melchett, free of all my enemies and my debts, and my obligations! And best of all no one will know that damned outrageous story about me and the goat, and the May Pole. Ha! A new start, in a new land, in a new age. A man of my relentless unscrupulousness should go far. (he hurries off to the back entrance to the Menagerie, while Baldrick heads for the front)

.........

The Tyme Travellers Compound in the Tower of London Menagerie. The crowd has grown.

Buffy: I'm sure they'll get tired soon, and go home. (ducks a flying turnip)

Spike: Soon would be good. (sinuously dodges two parsnips thrown at once)

Giles: I'm sure they will. Their arms must be aching by now. (watches as a rotten beet splatters on his shoe)

(Buffy picks up the turnip that she dodged)

Giles: Don't throw it back, Buffy - not a hair on their heads, remember. (Buffy lowers her arm reluctantly, then does a double take at the turnip in her hand).Oh - hey, it's Baldrick's turnip! Look. (she holds it out to Spike and Giles)

Giles: Um, are you sure? It looks rather like any old wrinkled turnip to me.

Buffy: No, no - it has this little blemish just here, look - like a kind of winking eye.

Giles: I didn't realise you'd taken such an interest in Mr Baldrick's... (he hesitates) ...toy? pet? Neither sounds quite right.

Buffy: I shall have to try and get it back to him.

Giles: Well, that's a nice thought, Buffy, but it's hard to see how we can pull that off. (he takes the turnip and examines it) It does look familiar... hmm, that reminds me of something. Doesn't it strike you as amazingly unlikely that this particular turnip should be thrown at us?

Buffy: The really amazingly unlikely thing was that anyone would steal it from Baldrick in the first place. (Buffy and Giles look at each other)

Spike: (shouts) What is wrong with you two? It's a bloody turnip! And a mangy, wrinkled, ugly little turnip at that!

(he grabs the turnip from Giles and flings it back in to the jeering crowd)

Buffy: Spike!

(The front row of the crowd see the turnip coming and duck aside. The turnip flies past and strikes Baldrick, who has just entered the compound, directly between the eyes. He collapses to the ground, dropping the key he holds in his hand. There is a collective roar from the crowd, and Spike, Giles and Buffy are struck by a hail of vegetable missiles.)

Giles: Now you've done it, you great ninny!

(One of the crowd sees the key on the floor, and, having run out of potatoes, he flings it at Giles. Buffy sees it coming and deflects it with her arm. It falls to the ground with a clang.)

Buffy: Ow! Why did I think that wouldn't hurt? (rubs her forearm)

Giles: A key! (they all gaze at each other) Could it be the Key?

Spike: That would be pretty bloody unlikely, wouldn't it?

Giles: Yes, yes it would, wouldn't it? There seem to be a whole series of coincidencesgoing on, don't there? (He retreats to the back of the compound, and stares for a long moment at the door, then tries the key, and turns the lock)

Giles: As I expected. (turns dramatically to the others) I think the space time fabric is attempting to heal itself! (Spike and Buffy gaze stonily back at him)

Giles: (trying again for a reaction) That's pretty impressive isn't it?

Buffy: Giles, if you don't get out of the way so we can go through that door, I'm going to run you over.

Spike: If it wasn't for the headache potential, I'd have punched you through it already.

Giles: Oh! Ah, sorry! (he steps through the door, closely followed by Spike and Buffy, eliciting a low moan of disappointment from the crowd. They emerge in to the dogleg corridor down which Blackadder is hurrying, his pistol drawn. Just as Blackadder reaches the turning in the corridor Giles, Buffy and Spike disappear in a flash of light.)

Blackadder: Nooo! It can't be...they can't have! (He rushes around the corner, to find the corridor empty) Aargh! (falls to his knees) What have I done to deserve this, O Lord? What? What? I, Blackadder, a soldier firm and sound of heart, And of buxom valour, hath, by cruel fate, and giddy Fortune's furious fickle wheel, been cast down...

Outside the compound, Baldrick slowly comes round. The disappointed crowd has dispersed, and he is lying on his back in a sea of crushed vegetable leaves. As he shakily sits up, his eye falls on the wrinkled turnip beside him.

Baldrick: My turnip! (looks up to heaven) It's a miracle!

The Summers living room. Ethan is gagged, and handcuffed to a pillar. Willow and Tara are seated hand in hand, with Mr Pointy, Giles' spectacles, and a book of poems by Elizabeth Barrett Browning sitting on the table in front of them. There is a flash of light and Spike, Giles and Buffy tumble to the floor.

Tara: You're back! (hugs Willow) We did it! It's a miracle. (She hesitates) Or actually, no. It's exactly what was bound to happen, if you look at the sums.

Willow: Yay for sums! (moves to embrace Buffy, and then steps back, her eyes watering) Oof! What is that smell?

Tara: (gazes at the filthy, strangely attired bunch anxiously) Are you all okay?

Buffy: We are all cool, and our heads are still safely attached to our shoulders - which is a good thing. But I need like six showers. And then I need to burn everything I'm standing up in. (scratches her head) I think I may have lice. (Willow steps back quickly) And then, I need to torture Ethan.(Buffy glares at Ethan. He waves his fingers at her cheerfully. It is hard to tell through his gag - but he appears to be giggling)

Giles: (looming up beside her) You'll need to stand in line, Buffy. But more importantly (he turns to Willow) Is the rip repaired?

Willow: It soon will be - it's been trying to fix itself ever since you disappeared. It's really very interesting, you see, from both a physics, and a magic point of view... (she is interrupted by Spike, who sees the objects on the table)

Spike: Where did you get...?You've been breaking and entering! (he blushes, and snatches up the book of poems, then strides out into the night, his dress swishing about his knees, and his coat flapping behind him)

Willow: (shouts after him) Oh, hey - you're welcome, no problem. Happy to help...

Buffy: I really, really need a shower! And insecticide shampoo. Do we have any insecticide shampoo? (she blunders off towards the bathroom)

Giles: Willow, Tara, tell me your theory about this self repairing fabric, that sounds quite fascinating.

(Willow begins babbling happily, Tara runs to fetch a book. Giles absently picks up his spectacles, and rubs them on his filthy shirt sleeve - then puts them on and blinks. The scene fades)

(Back at the Tower of London Menagerie. The disappointed crowd have dispersed, and Blackadder and Baldrick are standing in the corridor behind the compound. Blackadder is still talking to himself)

Blackadder: ...fortune is blind, and inconstant, and mutable, and her foot is fixed upon a spherical stone, which rolls, and rolls, and rolls... (he sinks to his knees)

Baldrick: Have you been staying up late and reading poetry again, my Lord? You know that upsets you.

Blackadder: Fortune is Blackadder's foe, and frowns on him. Alas! They are gone! All gone! And I am stuck in this hell of a life forever.

Baldrick: (sighs) Have the Angels gone back to heaven, my Lord? I'm going to miss them.

Blackadder: Not nearly as much as I am going to miss them, I assure you Baldrick. My passport out of here, forever! Gone!

Baldrick: Still, looking on the bright side, my Lord, your cunning plan means that your fortune is restored, again.

Blackadder: Not really, Baldrick, no. The Queen beat me down to thirty two shillings and tuppence for the lot of them. And I had a lot of trouble getting her to part with even tuppence for Bob, I can tell you.

Baldrick: (still stroking his turnip lovingly) That's still a lot of pies, isn't it my Lord? (brightens) And we got free sausages. (beams) And I have my turnip back.

Blackadder: You're a simple creature, aren't you Baldrick? Easily pleased.

Baldrick: Yes, My Lord.

Blackadder: Have I mentioned how much I loathe and despise you recently?

Baldrick: Yes, My Lord.

Blackadder: Good, good. Remind me to strike you again, when I have the heart for it.

Baldrick: Yes, my Lord.

(As they exit, Baldrick is whistling.)

 **The End**


End file.
